Letters (Rewritten)
by Fanfictionally
Summary: As the Golden Trio triumphantly returns to Hogwarts for their final year after the war, Hermione is forced to face her enemy once more. As Head Girl, she must work with and live alongside the Head Boy who just so happens to be Draco Malfoy. Being so close to each other brings forward hidden emotions, tense situations, and the opportunity for one of them to confess their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES:**

\+ Begins in September of 1998 after the war where the school is already repaired.

\+ Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Draco are all returning for their final year, while it's Ginny's as well, so they are all together in the same year now.

\+ Students who would most likely have graduated the previous year are remaining at Hogwarts because a lot of the students in Ginny's year are unknown.

 **This began as a rewrite to my other Dramione fic** ** _Letters_** **. That is still up on this account if you would like to read it, but my hope is that this one will be much better. The storyline is going to be changed too much to simply update my current chapters over there as I edit them, so I ultimately decided to start this new one. I hope you enjoy!**

Intolerable, arrogant, self-absorbed prick.

That's all Hermione can see now as she glares across the table at the bane of her existence bottled up in one blonde boy. Hermione shamelessly peers at him, squinting as if she's trying to make him catch fire. Maybe if he's stuck in the burn ward all year, he won't be Head Boy, and she'll be able to avoid him for the entire year.

Malfoy is unaffected by her stares, jotting down patrolling schedules for the Prefects. His otherwise neat handwriting is affected by the occasional jerk of the train, and he mutters under his breath each time this causes his quill to make a stray line. "Do you and the weasel want to be on a shift together?" he asks, eyes still on the parchment. He only looks up when she doesn't answer him. His aluminium eyes meet her clouded almond ones, and he chuckles at her obvious anger. "Maybe that's not a smart idea. I'll put him with one of the Hufflepuff kids instead, yeah?"

He waits in vain for a response, returning to the schedule seconds later and scribbling down Ron's name next to some boy's she had never met before. "Maybe the Head Boy and Girl should do a shift together," he suggests, smirking as he writes it down. Hermione's jaw clenches as Malfoy brags once again about his position, as if she hadn't achieved the same thing.

The sliding of the compartment door brings her out of her loathing for the boy across from her. Prefects begin to file into the compartment, filling in the seats. Both heads stand, shuffling to the end of the table that lacks chairs. Hermione internally curses at the fact that the open space is so limited; she could already tell that the entire meeting would consist of trying not to bump into Malfoy every time the train shifted.

He crosses his arms while Hermione fumbles with the stack of paper in front of her, struggling to put it in order before she begins the meeting. "It's nice to see all of you again, and my congratulations on achieving the high honor of being a Prefect. I'm Hermione Granger, the Head Girl this year. This is Draco Malfoy, and he will be the Head Boy… miraculously," she adds under her breath. Malfoy scoffs, opening his mouth to jump in and return the insult. She quickly cuts him off. "As a Prefect, your responsibility, first and foremost, is to protect Hogwarts and the witches and wizards belonging to it. To do this, each of you will sacrifice a few hours of your week to patrol the castle." Some students groan to themselves or exchange knowing glances. Hermione pays no attention, used to her peers' incompetence. "If you have any preference as to when you are scheduled, hand in a written request to one of the Heads by tomorrow evening. If there are any changes, please hand in a request two weeks prior."

A fifth year raises their hand. "What about quidditch?"

Malfoy takes over before Hermione gets the chance, obviously already annoyed by the frequently asked question. "Like she said, hand in your request and we'll work around it." The fifth year slumps back, obviously embarrassed by the stares he's receiving from the older Prefects.

"Yes, thank you... Draco." She notices him raise an eyebrow at the unusual first name basis. "There are only eleven of us who are not participating in Quidditch this year. A thanks to Harry, however, who has volunteered his time despite not technically being appointed a Prefect."

Harry nods to Hermione, but his blank stare and laid-back posture tells her that he hadn't been paying attention to anything, save the mention of his name. "Not a seeker anymore, Potter?" Malfoy teases.

"Team's full," he answers. "Ginny is a great seeker though; she deserves the spot."

Malfoy snorts. "She's not here, you don't need to suck up."

Harry doesn't respond, much to Hermione's surprise. She shoots him a half smile to show her gratitude, and continues. "We'll be keeping this short today. Headmistress McGonagall would like to address the group tomorrow evening immediately following dinner. Until then, the Prefect bathroom on the fifth floor is open for your use. I will pass out the patrolling schedules for the next week. If possible, work out any scheduling conflicts amongst yourselves for now." Hermione begins to hand the students copies of the schedule she had made over the summer.

Malfoy chimes in to finish up. "You'll be working with your fellow house Prefects to show the first years around after dinner. Sixth and seventh years should know the drill, so you fifth years can follow along with them." Hermione rejoins him at the front as she finishes handing out schedules. "Anything else, Granger?" he asks, taking his own copy of the schedule she offers to him.

"No. Are there any questions?" Some students shake their heads, but most are too busy looking over the schedules. "Alright. For the time being, please keep an eye out for trouble on the train, and have a good trip." She concludes the meeting, dismissing the group. Harry and Ron remain seated amidst the scrape of chair legs on the floor to talk to her while Malfoy walks straight to the Slytherin group to speak to his friends.

"Hey 'Mione!" Ron greets, wrapping her in a hug.

"I didn't see you before the train left! I thought you were going to stay home this year," she winks.

"I woke up late this morning," he answers. Hermione laughs, rolling her eyes.

"I figured. Did the two of you abandon Ginny to come here?"

"I would never," Harry joins in. "She's got Neville, Luna, and Dean. Are you going to come join us?"

She shakes her head. "Not for a while. We have to finish going through details." Hermione glances over at Malfoy, followed by Ron and Harry. He's in an animated conversation with Blaise Zabini, while Pansy Parkinson sits next to them, looking quite left out. Ron chuckles to himself at the sight.

"Have fun with that," Harry nods, patting her on the shoulder. Ron gives her a sympathetic smile, following Harry out of the train compartment and leaving her to the Slytherins.

In an attempt to avoid unprovoked ridicule from the three students, she sits and begins to sort through the stacks of paper. Her action is to no avail as she senses eyes on her. The two boys are looking in her direction while Parkinson seems to be staring into space.

"How can I help you?" Hermione asks rhetorically, more so inquiring as to why they have a sudden interest in her.

Malfoy ignores her question. "How was your summer?"

The lighthearted question somehow takes a disconcerting tone. "It was fine," she answers, fidgeting with the papers.

"Did you see Weasel?"

"Yes I did."

She catches a glimpse of Malfoy sharing a smug look with Blaise from her peripheral vision. "Has he gotten through those thick robes yet?"

Hermione presses her lips together. "You're disgusting."

"You really are," Zabini agrees, but has far more humor in his voice than hers had.

Malfoy shrugs. "I need to stay updated on your personal life."

"Why in Merlin's name would you need to do that?" she asks, resting her head in one palm.

He grabs the back of the empty chair next to Zabini, leaning toward her lazily. "We're going to be sharing a room. I need to know if I'm going to have to wait outside the portrait for you two lovebirds to finish."

"First of all, we're sharing a common space, not a room. Second of all… you're still disgusting." He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. "Can we finish going through this work?" she questions, giving a pointed look toward Zabini and Parkinson.

"Might as well," Malfoy gives in, straightening himself up. His friends rise, saying their goodbyes. Zabini gives Hermione a civil nod as he leaves, while Parkinson actively avoids her gaze. As they slide the door closed behind them, Malfoy joins Hermione at the end of the table, taking the seat across from her once again.

"I was thinking we can write down all the names of the Prefects open for patrolling each night, then start making schedules off of that," Hermione suggests. Malfoy agrees quickly, so they begin sorting through the schedules already turned in by the older students.

"When are we adding Potter to this list?" Malfoy asks as they finish adding the last of the schedules.

Hermione shrugs. "He's open whenever, but we should save his time for Quidditch season."

"He's really giving up being a seeker for his girlfriend?" Malfoy questions skeptically.

She shrugs. "He's not trying out for it. There's no guarantee that he would get the position even if he did try out." Malfoy chuckles. "What?" Hermione pries, pushing the parchment to the side to focus on him.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm sure Weaselette could beat him." Hermione ignores his complacent tone. "At least Gryffindor won't be a threat this year," he adds, aiming to taunt her.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Who said you'll get the seeker position either?"

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Who said that's what I'm trying out for?" Hermione continues to stare at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of asking what he's going for. "Team captain is open this year."

"You're forgetting something important," Hermione begins. Malfoy raises an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue. "Daddy isn't here to buy you a spot."

Malfoy's grey eyes instantly turn a coal black, his lips turning white as he presses them together. "Let's finish this shit later." He stands, nearly knocking his chair back in the process.

"Can't take a joke, Malfoy?" Hermione jeers. He doesn't even acknowledge that she had spoken as he slams the compartment door shut behind him, leaving her with a stack of work to finish.

Draco stalks through the long hall of the train, walking straight through anyone who doesn't immediately jump out of his way. He earns dirty looks from those roaming around, but he can't bring himself to care enough to do anything, including deduct house points. How dare Granger stick her opinion where it doesn't belong. She knows absolutely nothing about his father. If Draco had said _anything_ about her family, she would have jumped across the table and bitten his head clean off. What gives her the right to pretend that not only does he not have talent, but that his father is gone?

He's not gone.

In what is probably a minute, but feels like twenty, Draco reaches the Slytherin-inhabited section of the train. Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne sit at a table together. He marches up to the side of the table, gripping Blaise by the collar before he even notices Draco's presence. A strong pull of the fabric sends his best friend's legs into the table as he is forced to stand. With limited grace, he scrambles off the booth and out from under the table. Draco doesn't give him a moment to compose himself as he continues to pull the boy closer to the back of the train, leaving the two girls in the opposite booth confused and annoyed.

"Hey, what the hell?" Blaise finally says after catching his footing enough to focus on not falling. His hand pries Malfoy's off of his collar and he attempts to fix the wrinkled fabric, to no avail.

"Walk faster," Draco hisses, nearly in a sprint to reach a private compartment in the back of the train. Blaise huffs, jogging for a moment to catch up before matching Draco's long strides.

"Where are we headed?" Draco doesn't answer. They approach one of the four compartments in the back. Each is full, so Draco narrows down on one filled with kids who look like they are second or third years. "Find another place to sit," Draco demands after throwing open the door. The children turn, intending to challenge him before they presumably notice the flaring of the Head Boy's nostrils. The group simultaneously rises and files out, glancing back at the pair.

"Sorry," Blaise mutters as they leave. As soon as the final kid has passed, Draco grabs Blaise and pulls him into the compartment, sliding the door closed behind them. "Wow, mate, I'm sorry but I'm not into you," Blaise attempts to joke.

Draco acts as if he hasn't spoken. "Fuck Granger. Fuck Granger! Fuck her."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

He peers at his friend. "Fuck you, too."

"Still not interested."

Draco pulls in a deep breath, attempting to force air into his lungs after having forgotten to for the past few minutes. "Merlin's _fuck_!" he yells, giving up on attempting to calm himself down and throwing his clenched fist into the thin wall. Blaise looks between him and the now-present dent, but figures it's best to stay silent. "Fuck Granger and all her muggle-loving friends."

Blaise pats the spot across from him, beckoning Draco to sit and calm down. "What happened, mate?"

Draco refuses the offer, crossing his arms and pacing the small compartment. "She said Father was gone."

"What do you mean? She said he's dead…?"

"No! She said he's not around to… buy me a spot on the Quidditch team."

Blaise frowns, trying to stifle a laugh at the witch's insult. "That's harsh. He isn't around though, is he?"

"He is." Draco eyes Blaise.

"He's not here, though."

"Well, he's not dead!"

Blaise nods. "I don't think that's what she meant, though."

Draco huffs, dropping his shoulders as if to admit defeat. "I know." He takes the spot across from Blaise, letting his arms fall to his sides as his muscles relax. He can't help but finally notice the stinging of his bloodied fist as the adrenaline pumping through his veins dissipates.

"You still don't know where he is?" Blaise asks, crossing one leg over the other.

Draco shakes his head. "There hasn't been anything in the paper about his trial yet. Not even a confirmation that it actually happened. Hell, not even a letter to my mother about it!"

"Maybe you should just chalk it up to an incompetent government for now. There's no use in focusing on it so much," Blaise suggests.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Draco cries rhetorically, though he begins to hope for an answer. "My father might be dead, or he might be serving a life sentence on an island occupied by soul-sucking ghosts. I don't even know which one I'd rather have be true. If he's dead, he won't have to live the rest of his life without a will to do anything besides wither away. But if he's alive," Draco pauses, willing the lump in his throat to disappear, "there's a chance he could get out…."

"Mate…" Blaise trails off.

Draco shakes his head. "I know. I know he won't, but it's all I can hope for." Blaise keeps staring at Draco with overly kind eyes, and he shifts in his seat, diverting his gaze to the hills sweeping by outside. "Yeah, well...maybe I overreacted. Sorry."

Blaise moves to the other side of the compartment, now seated inches from Draco. His hand rests on Draco's shoulder, forearm against his back as he comforts the blonde boy. "It's going to be tough. It's going to fucking suck, mate. But you're going to get through it, I promise you. And whatever happens… it'll be for the best."

Draco nods, leaning down to rest an elbow on his thigh. His thumb and middle finger press on his temples for a moment until rubbing his face, resting it in his palm. "Thanks. I appreciate you being here. You know...there's no one else I can talk to about him."

"I know." Blaise pats his shoulder, standing up. "Come on, let's get back out there. Maybe listening to Pansy complain about her entire summer will make you feel better."

"Probably worse...but yeah, maybe." Draco follows Blaise, leaving the compartment and heading toward the rest of their friends, exercising much more care for who is in the hallway than he had previously. It seems to be a much shorter trek than earlier as the backs of Pansy and Daphne roll into sight quickly. The two boys slide into the booth across from them, and the girls abruptly stop their conversation to eye the pair.

"Nice to see you, Draco," Daphne says.

"You too." The girls stare at Draco, seemingly expecting him to say something of his sudden, short-lived appearance earlier.

"So, what's new?" Blaise finally asks, taking the attention from his friend.

Pansy takes it upon herself to answer the question. "I was stranded in the middle of nowhere at my aunt's estate all summer because _someone_ ," she blatantly stares at Draco, "couldn't be arsed to answer my owls and let me stay with them instead." She waits for him to apologize or make up an excuse, or even act as if he had been paying attention to her in the slightest. Draco continues to blankly stare at her. Pansy furrows her brows and shakes her head. "I'll have you know I had to see family I hadn't seen in years. Let me tell you, there is a good reason I avoided them for so long, but all that effort has gone out the damn window." Draco rolls his eyes, causing Pansy to grow exasperated. "You know, Draco, you're truly a heartless git!"

"I'm very sorry, but I cannot express to you how much I do not care," he states flatly.

She shoots up, standing awkwardly with her knees bent against the booth and palms pressed to the table. Draco worries that she'll make a loud, angry speech with the amount of air she sucks into her lungs. Much to everyone's surprise, she only peers at him before storming off to nowhere in particular. Daphne sighs, lifting her eyebrows for a second before sliding off the booth and hurrying after Pansy.

Blaise turns to him. "I don't know _how_ you made her shut up... but I need to learn."

 **Please feel free to leave your thoughts in a review as well as follow this story if you would like to read future updates!**


	2. Chapter 2

As much as Hermione wants to complete as much work as possible, she decides to allow herself to spend time with her friends and ventures out into the train halls in search of them. The thick pile of papers are clipped together and tucked into a folder which she holds to her side. Upon exiting the meeting compartment, she notices the confused, irritated students left in Malfoy's wake. Hermione shakes her head, turning in the other direction to seek out her fellow Gryffindors.

Not long after departing, she spots a distressed witch pushing the cart of sweets. The woman is given a handful of Galleons by someone on the other side of a compartment door. Hermione rolls her eyes, approaching the lady.

"I can only sell you ten chocolate frogs!" the woman insists as she tries to count up the coins.

"You have plenty of them," Hermione hears Ron insist.

"I still have the whole train to go through!"

Ron's pleads come to a pause as he spots Hermione. "Ten is plenty," she chimes in, and he blushes.

"How about ten each for the lot of us?" he asks the woman.

She stops counting to consider the offer. "Five each, but I'll bring back the leftover frogs after I've gone through my route."

"Done," Ron nods. "Also, fifteen of the pepper imps, some fudge flies, a handful of toffees… and two sugar quills," he finishes, sending a wink toward Hermione.

The witch gathers the candy, packaging it in a paper bag for him after handing back a few of his galleons and a couple sickles. "Thank you for your business," she says somewhat insincerely.

"See you after your round," he smiles, looking at the basket of packaged chocolate frogs on her trolly as she walks away.

"You've come into some money, I see," Hermione teases.

"Well, it's gone now," he grins, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the compartment.

Ginny flies up from her spot, pulling her into a tight hug and pinning the girl's arms against her sides in the process. "I missed you _so much_!" she cries.

"I… missed you t-too," Hermione coughs out, bending her elbows and tapping the folder of papers to her back in an attempt to embrace her friend. "How was your summer?" she manages to ask as Ginny finally releases her.

"Amazing! Quidditch camp was so much fun." She lowers her voice and leans closer to Hermione, presumably so Harry and her brother can't hear her. "I met so many hot guys. Muscular, nice… some of them are even smart!" As Harry joins the two in the middle of the compartment, Ginny bites her lip and giving her a knowing glance.

"Uh, hello again," Harry interrupts, giving Hermione a side hug. "I wish Ginny had greeted me with that much enthusiasm," he teases lightheartedly.

Hermione laughs. "You don't have our kind of connection." Ginny nods in agreement.

On the bench behind Hermione sits Luna, Neville, and Dean. She greets each of them with a quick hug. The other four squeeze together on the empty bench, Hermione between Ginny and Ron. He begins to break open the paper bag stuffed full of candy, using the folder on Hermione's lap to spread the packaged sweets around. He hands both sugar quills directly to Hermione. "Thank you." She shoots him an appreciative smile.

"I've got thirty-five chocolate frogs," Ron says to the group. "You can all have some, I just want the cards."

"You want those?" Harry asks, leaning over the girls to view Ron at the other end of the compartment. "They've mass-produced cards with our own faces, you know."

Hermione nods. "I've got our three cards at home, but after seeing it in every other package, it's gotten a bit old." Harry mutters in agreement, and their friends join in only to earn a few looks from the Trio.

"I'm still looking for Ptolemy," Neville says, "but I've got about twenty Hermiones."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she spits. He shrugs. "You know, I'm insulted that my card is the most common."

"You should be!" Ginny chimes in. "You're a rare, beautiful, glowing gem. Those cards should reflect that."

Hermione nods confidently. "Yes, they should."

"Uh… yeah," Ron mutters. "Anyway, I haven't had a chocolate frog in ages. I'd be happy to take all of the 'Miones off your hands." He sends her a sweet smile and she fights back a blush, looking down at the candy placed in her lap.

Each of them takes a chocolate frog, opening them at once. Chaos ensues as Neville's frog immediately hops onto the top of his head. Dean, distracted by his sudden jerking around, loses his frog as well. The two of them run from wall to wall as the frogs search for a way out. Dean catches his, but Neville's slips itself through the small slit in the window.

"Tough break," Dean comments, sitting back down and stuffing his frog in his mouth. Ron, mouth full of chocolate, tosses Neville another package. Luna takes it from him as soon as he plops down next to her, opening it up and squishing the frog enough to make it stop moving.

"Thanks…" Neville takes the frog back and frowns at the appearance of it, seemingly missing the excitement of a moving one.

"Let's see those cards," Ron prompts, reaching out to collect everyone's. "...Alright, we've got two of me, one of Harry, one of Circe, and... three of 'Mione." Hermione rolls her eyes, the numbers further proving her point. Ron shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders tightly in an attempt to make her feel better.

"What else have you got?" Ginny asks Ron.

He retrieves his arm to dig into the bag. "Some toffee and fudge flies, and a lot of pepper imps."

"Hand over the flies." She holds her palm out across Hermione, and Ron sets the small bag in her hand.

"Throw me a toffee," Harry says. Dean holds his hands up as well, so Ron throws them each a piece.

"Does anyone want one of the imps?" Ron asks. Everyone shakes their heads. "What am I supposed to do with fifteen of these?"

"Why don't you eat them all?" Neville asks.

"Because he'll fill the entire train with smoke!" Hermione exclaims, wondering if he had forgotten that one imp could set off a fire alarm from all the smoke it forced out of the head of its consumer. Evidently, Ron didn't care.

"I've got a better idea," Ron says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. Hermione was about to cut in to remind him that she hadn't been giving a suggestion, she was cautioning him against eating more than one. "I'm going to see how many it takes to set my breath on fire," he chuckles.

Hermione shakes her head. "Ronald, no!"

He pretends to have not heard her and reaches for the tiny fabric bag full of them. Hermione watches his hand as he grabs it from the folder on her lap, but doesn't attempt to stop him. She's known the boy long enough to know that he will do it whether or not she approves. In fact, he'd somehow be even more reckless if she didn't approve. That's always how it's gone in the past.

Ron starts shoveling the black mints into his mouth, chewing through them. Steam almost immediately begins flying from his ears and lips, but he fights the urge to stop and continues to fill his mouth with more. After eating the whole fifteen, Hermione is leaning into Ginny to space herself from the boy, who has begun sweating profusely. The compartment, despite the cracked window, is filled with smoke and causes everyone to choke as they try to breathe. Ron hasn't opened his mouth since dumping the last five imps in, and everyone waits in anticipation for him to breathe out and see if the challenge has worked.

"Merlin, Ronald! Your face is even more red than your hair!" Hermione exclaims.

He turns to her and laughs before he's realizing what he's doing. She jumps off the bench as her robe catches fire from his flamed breath. "It worked!" he yells, sending flames at her once more.

" _Shut up_!" Harry, Ginny, and Hermione shout in unison. The other two get up and begin looking for something to put out the flames with.

The fire proves to be more powerful than anticipated, refusing to disappear as it singes through her robe. Harry reaches for his wand, gripping it in his hand as he stutters through a charm. "Ignus… uh, ignis… rege-"

" _Ignis rigescent_!" Hermione screams at him, scrambling to unbutton the robe as the heat begins to hurt her skin.

"Right, _ignis rigescent_!" he yells as Hermione pulls the robe apart, breaking off some of the buttons. She throws it to the ground, stomping on it in an attempt to put out the flame. The pain in her burnt shoulder subsides and gives way to a dull tickle as Harry finally gets through the spell.

Ron rises, rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione stands in front of him, arms crossed. "Sorry," Ron whispers, a final, weak flame coming from his mouth. Had Harry not put the freeze fire charm on her, her face probably would have been a bit burnt instead of only feeling a slight tickle. She glares at him as he avoids her eye, too guilty to really face her. The white long sleeve button down she wears is uncomfortably tight, and only wearing that tucked into her uniform's skirt makes her feel unusually exposed.

"I have an extra robe," Luna chimes in, not affected in the slightest by the scene that had just played out. "You can use some of the fabric to fix that hole in yours."

"You don't need it?"

"No, but you'll have to go to the back of the train to get it."

"...Where is it?"

"On the ceiling in the tiny hall before the bathrooms."

"Oh… why?"

"I'm trying to catch Flurtails."

Hermione doesn't bother to inquire on what those are or how she plans to catch them with a hanging robe. "Okay, will you lead me back there?" Luna nods, heading to the door and sliding it open.

"Ginny...?" Hermione asks. She nods, accompanying the two to save Hermione from awkward conversations alone with Luna. She grabs Hermione's robe and the buttons for her, following the girls out. "How was your summer, Luna?" Hermione asks as they head down the hall to the back of the train.

"It was good. I studied tons of new creatures. Have you seen any of the new editions of _The Quibbler_?"

"Uh… can't say that I have."

"Ditto," Ginny replies.

"Well, the articles on creatures have doubled since last year. It's beginning to take off."

"That's great," Hermione says, trying her best to remain from criticizing the nonsense normally published within it.

"It is." Luna swerves through the people in the hall seamlessly, while Ginny and Hermione trail behind her, exchanging looks every so often. "How long have you been dating Ron?"

Hermione is taken aback by the question, stopping in her tracks for half a second. "Oh, um, we aren't together," she responds as she jogs a couple steps to catch back up with the two of them.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… I'm sure."

"Hmm. He seems as if he's interested in you."

"He is," Ginny confirms.

"I know," Hermione nods, rubbing her arm.

"Are you interested?" Luna presses.

Hermione shrugs before she remembers that Luna can't see her. "I'm not really sure anymore."

"Like I said, I met tons of cute men at Quidditch camp," Ginny says. "I've talked you up already and I have their addresses to send owls to. You ask, and it's all yours."

"I'll think about it."

Luna turns to look at the pair over her shoulder. "Are you looking to be with anyone?"

"I think so… dating sounds fun now that I don't need to worry about saving the world anymore."

"You deserve it. I love my brother, but I'm here to help you get laid."

"Ginny!" Hermione gasps. "I think I am perfectly capable of doing that by myself."

"Hun… you can't count it as getting laid if you're by yourself."

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Hermione notices the large compartment where their meeting was held only an hour ago. Recalling the Quidditch conversation that had occured with Malfoy, she turns to Ginny. "So, Harry isn't trying out for the Quidditch team this year?"

"Not that I know of. I think he should, but he's insistent on patrolling during the season instead. I'm not sure why he won't do it."

"Maybe he thinks he'll get the part because he's important," Luna suggests.

"...Maybe," Ginny says, considering the theory. "He's talented, though. It's not as if he doesn't deserve a spot on the team."

The girls reach the end of most of the compartments, now replaced by a more open space with booths and tables placed back to back against the windows. "And there, we have the opposite case," Hermione whispers to Ginny, eyeing Malfoy as the back of his blonde hair comes into sight. Ginny chuckles louder than intended, and the pair giggles. Parkinson and some girl Hermione can't remember the name of sit across from him. Their laughing draws attention from the girls, and Ginny returns their glare. Hermione only smirks at the dirty looks she receives from them.

Hermione fights the feeling of eyes on her back as she passes the table, now in sight of Malfoy and Zabini. Hushed whispers fill her ears as Luna starts talking about the creature she's attempting to catch, so she tries to focus as much as possible on her babbling instead. Soon enough, they've reached the bathrooms. Luna stands on her toes, snatching her robe from the ceiling. "Nothing," she sighs as she examines it. "Here you go."

Hermione takes the robe from her, and the three of them go into one of the bathrooms to attempt to fix up her own robe. Ginny splays Hermione's out on the floor, setting the buttons that were ripped off in their proper places. "You're sure you don't need this?" she asks Luna, who nods. She immediately tears a large piece of fabric from the bottom, placing it over the burnt hole. "Do you think _reparo_ will work?"

"I hope so," Hermione answers.

Ginny pulls her wand from her robe, casting the spell. The buttons loop themselves back in the threads of the robe, but the fabric from Luna's robe remains separate. "Shit," she mutters.

"Now what?" Hermione asks. Ginny shrugs.

"I may have a needle in the pocket of that," Luna says.

"Why?" Ginny asks. Luna begins to answer, mentioning something about the creatures again. "Actually, I don't need to know," she cuts in. Digging carefully into the robe pocket, she manages to find the aforementioned needle. "Can you sow?"

"Yes, it'll take me a while though."

Ginny nods. "Okay, we can take it back to the compartment if you want to." Luna agrees, gathering the robes and needle from Ginny. They leave the bathroom together, and Luna uses her wand to levitate her ripped-up robe back to the ceiling.

As Hermione leads the way back to the main hallway, she nearly runs into Malfoy who seems to be on his way to the bathroom. "Granger," he sneers.

"Malfoy. Back to your usual… charming… self?" she asks caustically.

"I would say so." He eyes her friends behind her, then focuses back on her. "You have a body, Granger. Never noticed."

Hermione crosses her arms over her chest, blushing as her skirt seems to grow shorter and her top grows tighter. The feeling of being undressed mentally overcomes her and she glares up at him. "I never wanted you to," she retorts.

He smirks, making her feel as if her statement only fueled him. "Are you sure about that?"

She huffs, rolling her eyes. "Fuck off," she mutters, fed up with him and his moods already. She walks past him, shoulder hitting his hard as she does so. Ginny follows her lead, but she hears Luna say goodbye to him politely as she trails behind the girls. Hermione turns to shake her head at Ginny.

The peaceful time without Pansy and Daphne is short lived as the two return a short time later, taking their spots across from the boys once more as if nothing had happened. Draco was back to moping over his Head situation, arms crossed and slouched in the booth.

"Now what's wrong with you?" Daphne pries.

He glares at her. "I'm fine."

"You _seem_ fine," Pansy quips.

"Keep your mouth shut. I know it's hard, but try," he remarks, voice dripping with mocked sympathy.

"You should have seen him after the meeting," Pansy tells Daphne, disregarding him. "Kept glaring _AK_ s at the muggle-lovers."

" _Avada Kedavra_ s?" she whispers, eyes wide. Pansy nods vehemently, earning yet another one of Draco's glares. He looks to Blaise in hopes of being defended, but his friend only shrugs.

"Speak of the mudblood," Pansy whispers, staring over Draco's shoulder. He hears the laugh of two girls, not daring to turn and look at them.

"Now look at who's glaring _AK_ s," Blaise says as they pass, referencing Pansy's staredown with the girls. Draco finally looks up to see Weaslette, one of their mental friends, and Granger. She catches his eye as he notices her lack of robe. A thin white button up is tucked into her short skirt. If Draco had thought she was attractive before… which he hadn't… well, he's screwed now. "Damn."

Blaise takes the words right from his head.

"Whoring out now that she's not with Weasley anymore, I'd bet," Daphne chuckles.

"She's not?" Draco asks.

Daphne shakes her head. "I swear every paper's got something about them now. My cousin's friend wouldn't shut up about Weasley being single. She's got something for him, Merlin knows what she sees in that, though."

"Why do you care?" Pansy pries, cocking one eyebrow up.

"I won't have to deal with Weasley in my dorm this year."

"They're still friends," Daphne reasons. Draco shrugs, not caring so much about that for some reason unknown to himself.

He hears the shuffling of the three girls and the close of the bathroom door. He eyes Granger, who is waiting for Loony Lovegood to do something presumably strange. Without a word or even a look to his friends, Draco gets up and saunters straight over to them. As he nears the corner, Granger rounds it and nearly walks into him. She takes a few steps back, craning her neck slightly to look up at him. "Granger," he smirks at her.

"Malfoy. Back to your usual charming self?" she asks, stuttering through her greeting in the slightest. He grins to himself.

He glances back at her friends. Weaslette is staring at him, matching Granger's angry stance. He finds himself holding back a laugh thinking about how the two short girls must think themselves very intimidating despite the fact that he easily towers over the both of them. Lovegood, on the other hand, stands to the side, simply watching the interaction between him and Granger as if it's a casual meeting of two acquaintances. Focusing back on the brown-haired witch in front of him, he nods. "I would say so…. You have a body, Granger. I'd never noticed."

His simple comment on the fact that she had a form hidden beneath her robes brings a bright red heat to her cheeks. Her hands tug down her skirt subconsciously and she crosses her arms over her chest, probably to try to hide the curve of her chest. Much to his satisfaction, the action brings far more attention to her breasts than before.

"I never wanted you to." Her bottom lip props itself out in just the slightest as she says so. The sight almost makes Draco want to abandon his pureblood morals as she stands in front of him, so embarrassed under his gaze.

"Are you sure about that?"

Her eyebrows knit together. "Fuck off," he hears her say as she tries to hit his shoulder. In reality, his body barely budges while hers is nearly knocked off guard. Ginny attempts to do the same, but ends up only brushing past him.

"Goodbye Draco," Luna waves, following the angry girls back to the front of the train. Draco chuckles to himself, walking to the bathrooms.

 **[A/N: Thank you for reading, favorite and follow this story if you're enjoying it and want to see future chapters! Please leave a review with your thoughts so far. I love reading them and they make me feel much more excited to write new chapters!]**


	3. Chapter 3

The sorting ceremony had always seemed a bit pointless to Hermione. Yes, it was important for everyone to be sorted, but did it have to be such a big event? For second through seventh years, the ceremony was boring. For first years, it was incredibly stressful, but also boring. She knew exactly three first years on her first day. The time leading up to her sorting was filled with fighting the urge to vomit. The remainder was her feigning interest, only truly paying attention when the hat shouted out her house name to see her new fellow Gryffindor.

Her friends had begun to make a game out of it. As each kid was sorted, they would try to guess the house and future of the first year before the hat had spoken by making judgments based on their appearance and mannerisms. If neither could give them a clue, they would make up elaborate backstories. It went on until they got bored and began to talk about something unrelated.

"House Prefect," Harry says as the next kid nears the hat. "Ooh, he just winked at some girl. Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team."

"Why?" Hermione asks.

"He's got glasses _and_ game... It doesn't take much to be the Ravenclaw captain."

"Ravenclaw!" the hat shouts moments after touching the boy's head. Harry nods confidently.

"Alright, let me have a go," she challenges as the next first year walks up. The girl saunters up to the chair, and Hermione follows her gaze to the front of the Slytherin table where the Prefects and Head Boy sit. "Malfoy's third wife," she finally says.

"Slytherin!" the hat says a second later, causing the group to chuckle a little too loudly. They earn a glare from the girl, as well as half of the Slytherin table.

"You're good at that, 'Mione," Ron laughs. "What's her name again?"

"Something with a 'D' I think," Ginny says.

"Mrs D Malfoy," he gushes.

"I said something _with_ a 'D', not _starting_ with a 'D,'" Ginny corrects.

"What do you want from me? Mrs Something-With-A-D Malfoy?" She shrugs in response.

Ginny nudges Hermione, and she turns her attention to the other ginger to her left. "You know what you should do this year? Try out for Quidditch!"

"What makes you think that is even remotely a good idea?" she asks.

"Really, Gin," Harry agrees.

"You should conquer your fear of flying on a broomstick," she reasons.

"I'm not going to do that by being shoved into a field with a broomstick and being chased by flying balls that are trying to murder me."

"You'd be surprised."

"I'm not doing that," Hermione assures her.

Ron wraps an arm around her shoulder. "On our first Hogsmeade trip, I'll fly you out there," he proposes. "Designated driver."

"I'm not doing that either."

Ron shakes his head at Ginny, assuring her that he will, in fact, get Hermione to take a ride with him. She doesn't fight him any longer, figuring her energy would be much better saved by waiting to do so when he suggests a specific date for her first flight.

His arm lingers around her for longer than she had imagined. He could be very touchy with her, but it usually only lasted a few moments. This time, he slings his arm around her shoulders, leaning into her slightly for nearly fifteen minutes. As soon as sorting ceremony comes to an end, the food appears on the long tables in front of them and he instantly releases her, giving his full focus to the feast.

Ginny and Hermione take their usual opportunity to talk as the boys are distracted by the abundance of food surrounding them. "So you're not with Ron," Ginny states. It feels more like she's questioning that, which Hermione understands after the display he put on for the last quarter of an hour.

"We're not," she reaffirms.

"Have you given any thought to those Quidditch guys?" She glances at Harry on the other side of her. Figuring that he's well-enough immersed between his food and some conversation with Dean, Neville, and Ron, she pulls a stack of pictures from her robe pocket. The first one is of her standing next to a tan man who seems to tower over her. His dark hair is messy, probably from the wind or riding on a broomstick for a better part of the day. They stand together, laughing and elbowing each other. Most of the pictures are the same sort of thing with all types of different attractive men.

"How old are these guys?" Hermione questions.

Ginny shrugs. "Like… seventeen to… thirty."

"Thirty! Are you trying to set me up with a thirty year old?"

"Keep your options open," she winks, flipping to the next picture.

"He's cute," Hermione comments.

Ginny gives her a look. "Uh, yeah…. His name is Collin." The picture is slightly different than the others. Instead of joking around, they almost look like they're bickering. She shoves him slightly in the picture, and he rolls his eyes, pushing her back. He's less tan than most of the guys she'd already seen, but it worked well with his lightly colored hair. "He's… funny. I don't know if you would like him, honestly."

"Why's that?"

"He's a bit… edgier than you typically go for."

"Really? I thought Ron was _very_ edgy," she snorts. Ginny rolls her eyes.

"Well, you haven't quite gone for him, have you?"

"I suppose not. In that case, who _do_ I go for?"

"Viktor."

"Krum?" Ginny nods. "We were just friends."

"You were just friends on that date in June?"

"How did you know about that?!"

Ginny shakes her head. "Even I had a chance to read the _Daily Prophet_ at camp."

"I had time. I chose to do better things, however."

"Well, I read it. And when you appeared on the front page with Viktor, I _had_ to read it whether I wanted to or not." She leans closer, lowering her voice. "Ron would not stop owling me about it. He was livid."

"Why?"

"He didn't think you were seeing anyone, especially not a guy he sort of hates. You know how jealous he was when you went with Viktor to the Yule Ball."

"I didn't even know anyone from the papers was around."

"Of course they were. You're Hermione Granger! They won't be leaving you alone for a long time."

"Great," she mutters, digging her fork into the pasta and swirling it around the steel prongs. She was ecstatic about the thought of Rita Skeeter looming over her head each time she left her home for the next few years.

"It'll be okay. You look beautiful no matter what, so you won't have to worry about being poorly photographed."

"True," Ron chimes in, mouth full of corn. Hermione cringes as her eyes are drawn to his mouth, shaking her head and turning back to Ginny as he focuses back onto his food.

"Anyway, how was the date?"

"Good," Hermione blushes.

Her eyes widen at the reaction. "Hermione Jean Granger."

"...Yes?"

"Did you _shag him_?!" Ginny whispers.

"No! Absolutely not...quite…."

"Tell me _everything_. Now."

Hermione looks to Ron's plate, finding it nearly empty. "I don't think we have the time right now," she comments. Ginny leans forward to examine the remaining contents and nods.

"You're right. But you're not going to avoid telling me for long," she grins mischievously.

"I'm well aware."

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron asks, peeking over her shoulder as he points to her half-full plate.

"Yes, Ronald."

He looks longingly toward her food before placing his head in his hands as his elbows rest on top of the table. Ginny and Hermione decide to socialize with Harry, Ron, Neville, and Dean now that they can't get away with talking about attractive men anymore. Dessert comes shortly after Hermione and Ginny finish eating, but the time designated to eat the cake and pudding is filled with announcements from Headmistress McGonagall.

"I'd like to take this time to address the student body. First and foremost, I would like to thank each of you for coming back this year after the catastrophe we suffered at the end of the last. As you must have noticed, our Great Hall has been fully repaired, as well as the entirety of our grounds. Our charms protecting this land have been recast and are stronger than ever, though there is little chance of us needing such a thing. I am confident that Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley have heard enough praise over the summer, so I will not submit them to such a display once more." She looks directly at the three, mustering up a small smile as they exchange silent greetings. "I will, however, invite Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy to join me here."

Hermione looks over the heads between Malfoy and herself in an attempt to meet his eyes. He glances at her for only a second, looking away as soon as they make eye contact. He swings a leg over the bench, rising and sauntering over to the platform Headmistress McGonagall stands on. Hermione groans internally, lifting both legs over the bench as she turns in her spot, shuffling over to where Draco now stands. Each stops on either side of the headmistress, turning to face the students.

"The Head Girl and Boy for the year is, perhaps, one of the best pairings in Hogwarts history." Hermione hears Malfoy snort. "Go ahead and ridicule my decision, Mr. Malfoy," the headmistress says, turning to him briefly. "As we recover from the second Wizarding War, I would like to work toward a goal of unity. Regardless of house, blood status, or our pasts. What matters now, at Hogwarts, is our actions. Ms. Hermione Granger of Gryffindor is our Head Girl while Mr. Malfoy of Slytherin will be our Head Boy. The two have always been at odds, but now, we are each given the opportunity to put grudges and prejudice in our past to make way for new relationships." Headmistress McGonagall eyes both of them, and Hermione is filled with a sense of newness. It almost makes her want to initiate a civil partnership with the Head Boy. Almost.

The headmistress turns to the table behind her, picking up two glass flutes half filled with champagne. Both heads receive a glass from her before she retrieves her own glass. Lifting it up toward the ceiling, she announces, "To new beginnings. For every one of us."

As McGonagall initiates the toast, Draco sneaks a look at Granger from the side of his eye. She sips the champagne as the students do, following the headmistress's lead. Draco lifts the flute to his lips, tipping it back quickly and chugging the alcohol down. He fights back a small cringe as the unexpectedly strong liquid burns at his throat, setting the glass down on the table behind him as the feeling subsides. As he looks to his right, both McGonagall and Granger are shaking their heads at him. He shrugs, taking the applause queued by McGonagall's speech as a sign to sit down. "I'd like to speak to you both in my office before I show you to your dorm," she declares to them both as they begin to head back to their spots.

"Nice going, you've already gotten us in trouble," Granger accuses as they head down the few steps from the platform.

"Fuck off, Granger," he mutters in response. She scoffs, storming away from him.

The students are dismissed shortly after. Draco watches as Blaise, Pansy, and the other Slytherin Prefects gather the new house members, preparing to show them to the dungeons. "Shall we?" Granger asks, having appeared behind him without catching his attention.

"I suppose."

He pulls himself out of his seat, catching up to Granger as she had already started walking toward the huge doors of the hall. "Do you think she's really going to scold us?" he asks as they enter the halls.

"Scold _you_?" she corrects. "I hope not."

"Are you worried for me?" he gushes, mocking her statement.

"If I was, then I'm not any longer." Draco rolls his eyes. They pass by the groups of their friends socializing in the halls before they retreat to their common rooms for the night. Soon enough, the crowds thin out and the corridor grows empty. Granger looks at him, searching to fill the silence. "So… how was your summer?"

Draco plasters an overly enthusiastic smile to his face. "Oh, it was grand! Watching my father get dragged away to Merlin knows where while my mother's mental and physical health deteriorated more and more every day… it was a real joy." Granger now openly stares at him, eyes wide. "Thanks for asking. How was yours?"

She doesn't answer, rubbing her forearm awkwardly. He watches as she opens her mouth a few times, obviously searching for some sort of response. Whether she was trying to sympathize or insult him was a mystery, possibly to the both of them as she gives up on thinking up something to say and opts for a tense silence for the remainder of the trek.

Upon reaching the entrance to the headmistress's office, Granger stares at the Gargoyle blocking the entrance. Before she can think of how to get it to move, it jumps to the side and allows them entrance to the spiraling staircase. They travel upward reaching two grand oak doors. Granger knocks apprehensively, and even that light pressure is enough to push the door open slightly. She glances over at Draco before pushing it open, sticking her head in. He enters behind her, scanning the room for McGonagall. The office had changed only slightly since Dumbledore had been in charge. It was much neater but held a vacated feel. The walls still had portraits of the past Heads of Hogwarts, but every surface was clean and empty, save for the large desk in front of them which held stacks of paperwork.

A shadow appears, coming from the level above them which is decorated entirely by bookshelves. McGonagall stands at the banister, gazing down at the pair. "Thank you for being so prompt," she says as she floats down the staircase. Upon reaching the ground, she looks far less intimidating as she is somewhat taller than Hermione, but still must look up a decent amount to make eye contact with him. "Please, take a seat." She sits behind her desk, and the two pull nearby chairs to the other side, sitting stiffly and anticipating a lecture.

"I wanted to elaborate on my statements during dinner." Draco let out a breath, figuring that this meant there would not, in fact, be a lecture aimed at him. "I am well aware that appointing you both as Heads together may seem like the worst idea imaginable." Granger hums in agreement. Draco knew that she would think his being Head Boy was a bad idea no matter who was Head Girl. "As I said, this year is a new beginning. That goes for you two as well, in every sense.

"Ms. Granger, you've spent the last seven years assisting in the defeat of the dark lord. Even so, your marks have been flawless and you have been an exemplary student. You will finally be able to focus on your social life and future." She turns to Draco, clearing her throat. "Mr. Malfoy. You have had a… tough nineteen years of life. Now is the time for you to put aside your prejudices and history with the dark side. Of course, you can only change if you are willing to make an effort to do so.

"I have put the two of you together not only because I believe that you will balance one another out, but because you will be good for each other." Draco fights a scoff. He notices Granger look up at him from the corners of her eyes, only turning her head slightly to do so before she gazes down at her hands in her lap. "Hermione will challenge the ideals you were raised to believe." She looks to Granger, who brings her attention back to McGonagall. "Draco will expose you to the other sides of your ideas."

Granger speaks up, voice coming out quiet and coarse. "How do you imagine us balancing out in terms of being responsible for the students here?" She says it as if she doesn't believe it to be possible.

"You are… rule-abiding. It has a time and place, but some could agree that you are too harsh in certain situations. Draco has had a tendency to… abuse his power." He mentally thanks her for softening that blow and scoffs to himself. She gives him a stern look but doesn't comment. "Your tendency to follow such rules may influence him to think twice about using his power to participate in irresponsible actions. His lack thereof may allow you to relax once in a while."

Draco feels eyes on him once more, knowing Granger is looking at him. His eyes remain on the wooden wall behind McGonagall, refusing to meet either pair of eyes. McGonagall stares expectantly at him, but he clears his throat and crosses his arms. "Thank you, that was thoroughly depressing." Rising from his chair, Granger straightens herself back up, eyes following him. "May we go see the dorm now?"

McGonagall chews on the inside of her cheek as she stares him down. He does his best to keep a casual, confident demeanor. Finally, she breathes out loudly, rising from her chair. Granger quickly follows suit. "Fine, then. Let us go."

Draco and Granger wait for the headmistress to pass the pair before they begin walking. She leads them through the halls which are eerily empty for only eight thirty, probably because everyone is already in their common rooms or dorms. McGonagall leads the two to a corridor which Draco instantly recognizes as it holds the Room of Requirement. Granger stumbles slightly as they walk by the wall which bears the opening after pacing before it, most likely having just noticed the same thing herself. Two turns later and they stand before a large portrait of a man posing with a broomstick. Draco instantly recognizes him as Ludo Bagman, a former Quidditch beater for the Wimbourne Wasps.

"I thought this a fitting portrait," McGonagall finally says, breaking the silence, "as you, Mr. Malfoy, enjoy Quidditch, while Ms. Granger enjoys Quidditch players."

Draco lets out a snicker at the subtle slander. Granger glares at him, as well as the headmistress, much to his surprise. She ignores both reactions. "The password is 'Hippogriff Boggart.'"

Draco's eyelids drop as Granger instantly presses her lips together in a smirk. He had never liked that bloody Hippogriff, and now he is going to be tormented by the memory of being attacked by one each time he wants to relax in his dorm.

The portrait swings open as McGonagall restates the password, and she instantly climbs through. "Ladies first," Draco says to Granger, who follows after her. As Draco steps onto the carpet of the other side, the portrait swings closed.

The walls are painted a dark maroon while the light pine of the floor is covered in most areas by silver shagged rugs. The walls almost appear to be decorated by dark green plants as pots of them are placed along the walls. It mixes each of their house colors together without making the entire room seem as if it is Christmas-themed. A fireplace sits off to the left with a couch and two armchairs placed near it, true to the house common rooms. To the right is a half-filled dark bookshelf accented by gold designs. A long table lines the wall next to it, nearly two desks in length. Two cushioned desk chairs sit in front of it. They resemble the armchairs near the fireplace from the top, but the bottom has wheels enabling it to easily move to and from the table.

A thin hallway branches in the middle of the two spaces. The door straight back contains a bathroom for the two of them to share. On the left of the hallway is Draco's room, while Granger's is on the opposite side. McGonagall excuses herself, bidding them goodnight and leaving the two to explore their new bedrooms.

"These colors aren't as horrendous as I imagined," Draco admits to her.

"Agreed," she replies. They remain in the center of their common room. "I was thinking… maybe McGonagall is right."

"About?"

She sighs. "About us not being such a horrible pairing. Granted it hasn't been very... _fun_ so far. But maybe on paper, it's not quite as crazy as it seems."

"You aren't wrong, Granger. The problem is that this is real life, not paper."

She bites the middle of her bottom lip as she looks at him. Her cocoa eyes drill into his dull grey ones. She still seems to be feeling down, presumably from being forced to listen to McGonagall's rambling about new beginnings. The fire flickers against her cheek, casting shadows across the other side of her face. Maybe the headmistress's motivational speech had gotten to him too, because he was beginning to feel like he didn't hate Granger anymore. In fact, he could almost imagine himself feeling the exact opposite about her.

 **[A/N: Thanks for reading! Favorite and follow this story if you're enjoying it and want to see future chapters. I may or may not have the next chapter written already but I've uploaded these three within a few days of each other so I'll most likely end up saving it for a while unless some of you want it earlier! Let me know and leave a review with your thoughts. They mean the world to me and it's so nice to see appreciation for my work because I'm trying to make it something I would want to read as well.]**


	4. Chapter 4

**{A/N: Sorry for the shorter chapter, I'll be a little busier in the next week but I'll make an attempt to get something out to you!**

Hermione lies in her new bed, covered to her chin by a maroon comforter with a golden Gryffindor symbol adorning the middle. The words of Headmistress McGonagall echo through her mind as she stares up at the white ceiling. She was right. It's Hermione's turn now to focus not only on what she needs, but what she wants. There's was no dark lord to defeat, no horcrux to search for, and no friends who required life-saving help.

The witch had been so exhausted the previous night that she had barely taken in the surroundings of her first private bedroom at Hogwarts. Immediately after nodding a farewell toward Malfoy, she retreated to her room. Laying in bed, she had grabbed her wand from the bedside table, locking the door. As she had drifted off to sleep, thoughts of the year echoed throughout her brain. There seemed to be a common theme within her dreams; unity.

But now, having gone to sleep at nine, she could no longer sleep. The clock on the opposite wall read four fifteen. Hermione rolls out of bed, brushing the deep red curtains to the side. A sliver of orange light peaks over the mountaintops, barely visible. She had nearly two hours left before she could head down to breakfast. Hermione unlocks the bedroom door, venturing out into her common room.

The wood within the fireplace is burning, flames warming up the room and serving as the only light source. A green plaid blanket she hadn't previously noticed lays on the couch, looking inviting as the cold wooden floors meet her bare feet. Grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her, she hums to herself. The scent of old books and mint overwhelms her senses. For a throw blanket, it is very large and covers the entirety of her body, allowing herself to cocoon within it.

The crackling of the logs fill her ears for what feels like only seconds. It proves to be longer, as she is awakened by doors opening and closing. Hermione straightens herself up from her slouched position, stretching her neck and causing it to crack a few times. Rubbing her eyes, she sees a figure standing not far from her. She struggles to make it out as she blinks profusely.

"Stealing my things now, Granger?" the shape asks. She instantly recognizes the voice as her one and only fellow Head.

"What do you mean?" she asks, forcing down a yawn. Her eyes focus on him just in time to see the blonde boy nod down at the blanket surrounding her.

"This is yours?" Malfoy nods once more. "Oh! I'm… sorry." She hesitates, reluctant to pull it off, even after the newfound discovery that it belongs to one of her least favorite wizards. "It's comfy."

"I'm aware." She finally shrugs it off, finding no other excuse to hang onto it. He takes it from her outstretched hand, holding it to himself. "I used to keep it in the library in my home. This reminds me of it."

She smiles.

"You should probably get ready," he suggests.

Hermione's eyes dart to the clock which now points to six. She shoots off of the couch, leaving Malfoy behind as the door to her bedroom closes behind her. Taking a look in the mirror, she groans at her frizzy hair. The trunk near her wall is flung open as she searches desperately for some of her hair product to attempt to tame it. Upon finding the bottle, Hermione squirts some into her palm and runs it through her tangled locks. It works half as well as she had hoped, but she has thirty minutes until she feels that she _has_ to be in the Great Hall for breakfast.

As she retrieves her wand from the drawer, she casts her usual spell in order to make the tip of it hot. As Hogwarts has always been unable to use electricity due to the high level of magic surrounding everything, she'd learned to adapt by using magic to replace what she had previously relied on power for. Taking the heated wand to her hair, she wraps a thick chunk around it before allowing the chestnut strands to curl. This method takes only a few minutes, and she exits her room after throwing on a robe and some light makeup. As she had assumed, Malfoy is gone, presumably having gone to breakfast.

By the time Hermione reaches the Great Hall, it's almost entirely full. Owls begin to swoop down over the crowd, dropping off letters and packages to the students. A cluster stands at the front of each of the four tables. She quickly realizes that it is the prefects handing out schedules to each of the students in the house. They rattle off names over the commotion as kids scramble to get theirs. Those who have received them are trading off with their friends, hoping to have as many classes as possible with each other. Hermione fights through the crowd to seek out Ginny who sits in the first seat at their table.

"Have you got your schedule yet?" she asks the red-headed witch.

She shakes her head. "They started with first years at six and they're still on the fifth years."

The girls watch the Gryffindor prefects hand out schedules until Harry shows up, glasses crooked and hair disheveled as he plops down on the bench next to Ginny, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Who wants to bet that I'm going to be in Trelawney's class again?" Harry groans.

Hermione snarls. "Ditto. Apparently it is crucial to my future now. Lovely."

As if on queue, Ron hands an envelope over the table to her. She takes it eagerly and tares open the paper. Folding it open, she looks over the schedule. Of course, Divination is indeed part of her daily routine from now on. Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration remain a part of her curriculum. As for electives, she had chosen Alchemy. This gave her two free periods to study. She, as well as Harry and Ron, no longer have to take Defense Against The Dark Arts. Even Hermione cannot think of much that she would be able to learn in the classroom that she hadn't already known after partially running the second wizarding war.

"What've you got second?" Harry asks as he opens his own schedule.

"Charms."

Ginny slides her finger through the paper, scrambling to open it and begin comparing. "Me too!"

"First?" Hermione asks.

"Free period," Harry answers.

"Muggle studies," Ginny responds.

Ron joins the three at the table after finishing up the passing out of Gryffindor schedules. His own is in his robe pocket, already opened. "I've got that, too!" he chimes in.

Hermione listens as the other three go through their schedules. Ginny would be there to witness her suffering in Divination fifth period, but the boys were able to skip it this year. Though Hermione had no classes with either, she had the two with Ginny and they each had a free period at the end of the day. Satisfied enough with her schedule and full after eating their first breakfast of the year, she sets off to the dungeon for her potions class.

The air around her begins to cool down and brings goosebumps to the surface of her skin despite the thick robe. She tugs the top closer to her bare neck. As she enters the dungeon, her eyes scan the spots. Few are taken as class does not begin for another ten minutes. Not only does she spot Dean and Luna together, but she also sees a few boys in emerald green ties. As many of her classes were only shared by two houses a few years back, Hermione suspected that the headmistress was loosening up those rules in an attempt at full Hogwarts unity.

She waves at her two friends, grabbing a seat a few feet to the right at the next table. "How are your mornings?" she asks.

"I found a Flurtail in my old robe," Luna says.

Hermione nods, pretending to know what the creatures are, and pretending to care. "That's great."

"I saw it," Dean adds on. "It was… weird."

"Lovely." Hermione plasters a smile to her face. Not long into their awkward conversation, a cluster of students file through the door. She notices that many of them are Slytherins. Some of Snape's bias still seems to be showing.

The bright blonde hair of her fellow head comes through the door behind many of his friends. He is the last to come in, save for Professor Slughorn. By the time he surveys the room, most of the seats are taken though the one next to Hermione remains. The two students lock eyes, and she knows instantly that he's going to opt for the spot at her table.

He falters a bit before heading over and plopping down next to her. His books are set in the corner. Malfoy clears his throat as he looks over at Hermione. "So, Granger… looks like we're partners."

"Apparently so…. Just don't mess any of my potions up."

"Please, I got an Outstanding on my O.W.L.s! Don't forget who you're speaking to."

"An outstanding as a Slytherin from Professor Snape. I'm not impressed, sorry."

He scowls. "Bug off."

Hermione welcomes the beginning of Professor Slughorn's speech. "Welcome, students, to your seventh year of potions. To be quite honest, I was a bit preoccupied celebrating the end of the war this summer so I don't yet have much planned. But no worries! We'll revisit our first lesson of sixth year and I'll discuss some of the repercussions of using such potions."

He digs behind his desk and pulls out a tray with ingredients. There is a vase filled with thorny roses, a basket of small eggs surrounded by ice cubes, and three containers filled with powders. "We will be experimenting with love potions once more. I doubt many of you will succeed, and I will be keeping a close watch to ensure that no one manages to smuggle some out… again." He clears his throat. "Right, so if you'll look into your textbook, page 1,683, you'll find your list of ingredients. I have everything up here, all you need to do is measure."

Hermione flips open her textbook, eyes instantly falling on the potion name. Amortentia. She recalls smelling the most enticing thing she has ever had the pleasure of sniffing. Malfoy peers over her shoulder to view the measurements instead of grabbing his own book. "I'll gather the ingredients," he offers, standing up and budging his way through the line around the tray Professor Slughorn set out.

He quickly brings back each of the ingredients and begins to prepare the cauldron. She cuts the thorns from the roses, pricking her fingers a bit too much for comfort. Hermione then frees the egg from its icy shell, chopping it into tiny pieces. She pulls the textbook into her lap and begins to instruct Malfoy as he adds ingredients slowly, painstakingly stirring through it. Hermione almost finds it boring, though he seems to know what he's doing. Maybe he did indeed deserve an Outstanding grade, as she would have moved on long ago if she had stirred it.

With ten minutes remaining in the class period, several students' cauldrons have boiled over. Malfoy remains focused even through the commotion caused by overflowing potions. Amongst the burning scent that had filled the room, a glorious one fills her nose. Hermione drops her textbook back on the table, rising from her spot and attempting to get a better smell of the potion. She notices that Malfoy can't help but drift toward their golden cauldron as well. As with the last time she had smelled the potion, newly cut grass and parchment fill her nose. This time, the parchment smelled more like old books in a full library and less like a newly purchased roll. Spearmint cuts through the burning, but she also senses the scent of a fireplace. The combination brings her back to the morning as she fell asleep in front of it, with the exception of the grass.

As she pulls herself away, she notices Malfoy staring at her. "What?"

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "When did you start wearing so much perfume?"


End file.
